


I'm So Glad You're Okay

by ficmewrong



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: 4x07 "weaponized" AU, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, No Character Death, Scott & Sheriff feels, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is a Good Friend, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski Feels, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficmewrong/pseuds/ficmewrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't escape the scene with the chemist in 4x07 quite so unscathed. </p><p>(Prompt: Stiles is injured by the bullet that McCall shot the Chemist with and the aftermath of that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm So Glad You're Okay

**Author's Note:**

> credit to anonymous prompter on tumblr

He doesn’t realize he’s actually hurt.

  
It isn’t until he’s standing in the school’s hallway, pulling away from his dad’s tight embrace, that Stiles notices the blood that’s now staining his dad’s uniform. It’s right where his head had been resting moments before and he doesn’t know why but he’s starting to panic.

  
Everything around him seems to be fading in and out. His breaths are coming fewer and farther between and the lack of oxygen is fogging up his mind. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but someone’s holding him up. He doesn’t know who it is, but there are arms are linked beneath his armpits, preventing him from falling on the floor.

  
There’s screaming then. It’s loud, very loud, but somehow it still sounds far away. Like he’s underwater and someone’s screaming down at him. Then there’s Scott’s voice in his ear and he sounds scared. Stiles doesn’t know why Scott would be scared, but he knows he doesn’t like it. He knows Scott’s telling him something, he has a feeling it might be important, but he can’t make out what’s being said. He wants to tell Scott not to worry, that everything’s okay even though Stiles really doesn’t know _if_ things are okay or not, but he can’t form the words.

  
Then he’s in someone’s arms, being carried off like a baby. A little part of him thinks he should probably be embarrassed. He can’t tell if its his dad or Scott that’s holding him, but he can’t really bother to lift his head from where it’s pressed into whoever’s neck in order to look. _His head_. He’s still bleeding, he’s pretty sure, though he’s not sure if he can actually feel the blood flowing through his veins and pouring out of his head or if he’s imagining it.

  
|-|

  
He’s okay when they get to the hospital, mostly.

  
 _Shock_ is what the doctor had mouthed over his head at his dad, but Stiles had seen it.

  
He lost quite a bit of blood, he’s told, but head wounds tend to bleed excessively. He should be fine, basically, if not a little out of it.

  
The doctor finishes up his stitches on his temple and his dad grips his shoulders firmly, partially to comfort him but mostly to hold him still. He isn’t trying to move away, though, he can’t even feel the doctor’s ministrations other than the occasional small pinch. He doesn’t know if it’s because they numbed the area or if it’s Scott using his werewolf mojo while he holds his hand tightly.

  
“You’re sure he’s okay?” his dad asks as the doctor stands up from his stool.

  
“It was just a graze, fortunately,” the doctor answers evenly, removing his gloves. “Head wounds bleed profusely, it looked a lot worse than it actually was.”

  
“You’re sure?” his dad asks again.

  
“He’s safe to go him,” the doctor tells him, writing something on his clipboard. “Just keep an eye on him. If he starts complaining of nausea or dizziness, bring him back in.”

  
His dad nods his head this time and let’s go of his shoulders. His dad grabs his elbow, Scott holding his opposite hand, and they help him down off the examination table.

  
“You’re lucky, kid,” the doctor says when he’s standing on his feet, neither Scott nor his dad actually letting go of him. “A centimeter over and that bullet would have killed you.”

  
Stiles doesn’t see it, but he’s pretty sure his dad’s glaring at the man.

  
|-|

  
Scott hangs back at the hospital to talk to his mother while Stiles’s dad takes him home right away, settling him in his bed and asking half a dozen times if there’s anything he needs. Stiles says no every time.

  
The numbers on his clock say it’s only 8:17 and Stiles wonders briefly if that’s the reason he can’t sleep. But it’s not, he knows it. So he gives it another 6 minutes before he’s tucking his pillow under his arm and heading down the hall.

  
He knocks on his dad’s bedroom door and bites at his thumb nail while he waits for his dad to open it. When his dad does open the door he looks confused for about 3 seconds before glancing down and seeing Stiles’s pillow. He takes a step back and gently grabs Stiles’s forearm, leading him over to the bed. His dad pulls the covers back for him and tucks him in. Stiles doesn’t usually indulge in these things, letting his dad take care of him like he’s still a small child, but he figures tonight can be an exception.

  
His dad kneels on the ground next to him and brushes his hair off his forehead. There’s no way he’s comfortable like that, Stiles knows, but still his dad doesn't leave and Stiles doesn’t ask him to. He stares at the wall just past his father as his dad continues to gently stroke his head, mindful of his stitched. He only closes his eyes once his dad starts humming quietly, the same lullaby his mother used to sing to him.

  
His dad stays until he think Stiles is asleep.

  
Stiles isn’t though, he can’t sleep with those words running through his head.

  
_A centimeter over and that bullet would have killed you._

  
|-|

  
When his dad comes back into the room some two hours later and crawls into the other side of the bed, Stiles rolls over and his faces him.

  
“You been awake this whole time, kid?” his dad asks and Stiles always wonders how he just seems to _know_ these things.

  
Stiles nods in the dark, no sure if his dad’s eyes have adjusted enough to actually see him or if his dad just guesses. Either way, he’s being pulled closer, wrapped up tightly in his father’s strong arms, and he tries to tell himself that he’s safe here.

  
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” his dad whispers to him, rubbing a large hand up and down his spine. His pillow is forgotten and replaced instead by the warmth of his father’s chest, the steady thump of his his dad’s heart lulling him into sleep.

  
|-|

  
Scott opens the door to the Stilinski house with the key Stiles had given him back when they were 11. He heads up the stairs slowly, avoiding the steps he knows creak, trying to avoid waking either of the men.

  
He opens Stiles’s bedroom door only to be met with the sight of an empty bed and for a moment blind panic overtakes him. But then he notes Stiles’s missing pillow, listens for the two heartbeats, and follows them to the sheriff’s bedroom, opening the door gently.

  
He stands in the doorway, observing the way Stiles is curled up against his dad. Stiles’s hand is clinging to the fabric of his dad’s t-shirt like he’s scared of letting go. Sheriff doesn’t seem any more keen on letting Stiles out of his reach, an arm wrapped around Stiles’s back and a hand tangled in the back of Stiles’s messy, dark hair.

  
Scott understands, it’s hard not to stare at the way the bleached white bandages catch the moonlight streaming in through the window, a stark reminder of what him and sheriff nearly lost.

  
“You know I know you’re there, right, son?” sheriff says drily without even opening his eyes.

  
Scott startles, but manages not to fall on his ass.

  
Sheriff crack an eye open at him, offers him a small, amused smile, and gestures with a nod to the empty side of the bed.

  
Scott kicks of his shoes by the door and climbs into the bed without hesitation.

  
He remembers the night after his dad left and his mother thought he’d benefit from a sleepover with Stiles. Scott had known she really just wanted the house to herself so she could cry and he wouldn’t hear her, but he agreed to stay with Stiles anyway. He thinks he lasted a half hour after Stiles fell asleep to go clamber up next to the sheriff, who’d held him and let him cry his eyes out for what felt like hours. Stiles had stumbled in, half asleep still, sometime around midnight and curled up behind Scott without a word.

  
Scott returns the favor now, tucking himself behind Stiles and wrapping his arm around Stiles where sheriff’s arm had been moments before. He presses his hand against Stiles’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his heart beating steadily. Sheriff moves his hand to the back of Scott’s head, a comforting and firm presence as Scott drifts into unconsciousness.


End file.
